


Contract

by Pointedflower



Series: Royal Arrangement [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Anubites, Based On a D&D Game, Half-Elves, Other, game of thrones esc plots oh my!, royal au, the dm killed one half of this ship and it spawned a shit ton of aus, the lydsani cinematic universe, this is super self indulgent but maybe you guys will like it too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-02-23 20:46:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18709675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pointedflower/pseuds/Pointedflower
Summary: For fifteen long years the kingdoms have been consumed in bloody and brutal warfare. Now finally the war is over and to ensure the peace is lasting all sides agree to arrange a series of political marriages. The first of these marriages between Husani, the General of the armies of Quain and Heir Apparent to the throne, and Lydian, the firstborn son of the Royal House Libitano, is set to happen just weeks after the ceasefire was called. It would perhaps have a more successful beginning if someone had asked Lydian if he was interested in entering a political marriage with the single most feared killer in the entire war. Or if Husani had had free will for more than just eight years of their life before signing it away out of duty and responsibility.Regardless of wants or needs however the wedding happens, the treaties are signed and all thats left is to build something together. But things in Quain are not as stable as they seem and many are unhappy with how the war played out in the end. Whether by love or necessity, Husani and Lydian must band together, or die alone on a political battlefield.(Aka the writer puts these nerds through the emotional ringer for fun and profit)





	1. An Alliance Forged

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!  
> If you are one of the people in the DnD group these characters are from... why tf do you even read the random ass nonsense i spew? Id say you have better things to do with your time but I know you dont.  
> If you aren't one of those people I'm glad you're here even if I'm confused by your presence. An explanation is in order. A while back I began playing Dnd with a group of fellow college nerds. Me and another player built and planned an epic romance between her half-elf Necromancer Lydian and my Anubite Barbarian Husani. It was slow going due to the emotional trauma in both characters backstories but we had so many delicious moments planned! Then Lydian died and became one with a demonic murder forest just weeks after they finally discussed their feelings... so there went all that plot :).  
> But even if we were no longer able to play out that story our attachment to the characters did not abate. They were still in art and writing and then appeared in another players campaign he was dming. That inspire me to add them into a campaign i was dming, and then i wrote some AU's... and well the Lydsani Cinematic universe was born. I've written plenty of drabbles for lots of the Au's that spawned but for some reason this one has really grasped me and forced me to write it. This honestly has very little to do with the actual campaign at the moment beyond the characters and the locations. Even their backstories have changed. Its just for fun and my own personal enjoyment of twisting these two into new scenarios.  
> I hope you enjoy it, please leave a comment or Kudos!

Husani settled themself outside of their tent on an old stump. One of their Kopeshes rested on their lap as they dragged their whetstone along its razor edge, sharpening it further. The movements are slow, patient and repetitive, each one long and drawn out as the scrape of stone against metal fills the air. Their body appears relaxed, their face focused and smooth. Even so everyone who walks by knows it is a farce. Tension rolls off of them in waves, forcing those nearby to avert their gaze due to the sheer intensity of it. The camp has been here for more than a week now and with the war over and done with the soldiers of Quain wish to return home. The days trickling past that have them stuck in tents on this plot of land have shown a steady drop in temperaments. Small fights have begun to break out, snarls over pathetically petty issues. Sparring matches drift closer and closer into all out fight clubs used to determine who can attend the next hunt. Everyone paces anxiously around like caged animals, desperately trying to burn off their intense energy. Husani knows that these war-scarred men and women wont relax until they are home again, Husani knows they themself wont be able to relax until they feel sand under their paws once more. They wish they could order the camp packed up tonight and begin the long trek home from Thrones Perch, they wish they weren’t chained here by obligation and stupid idiotic politics.  


The camp suddenly shifts, Anubites swirling and filled with a new anxious energy and Husani knows instantly that the only person who has it worse than them right now has returned. Lukman strides between the tents, the crowd parting for him like a school of fish before a shark. His shoulders are hunched and Husani can see the clench of his jaw from here. His hands flex, claws twitching and his ears flick backwards and forwards. His stride is long and powerful, and anger is written in every line of his body. Husani may be frustrated that they are pinned here until peace talks are finalized, but Lukman is the one who has to attend the talks.  


Husani is already standing when the white Anubite reaches them, fire red eyes flashing with suppressed rage. They sheath the sword they were sharpening and send his guards an inquiring look as he sweeps aside the tent flap and vanishes into the interior. Both Abrax and Kamilah shrug looking equally confused and tense by their leaders obvious upset and Husani sighs deeply. They hate going into situations like this without any knowledge of what caused them. They lift the tent flap and step inside Lukman’s tent, moving slowly as if they would spook him. Shielded from the eyes of his forces it is clear the barely maintained control is unraveling as Lukman paces to and fro . His hands rise and card through his snowy white dreads, his shoulders flexing causing the lacework of golden flowers tattooed across his shoulders to dance in the lamplight. He mutters softly, but mostly inhuman snarls escape his lips as he paces. Husani takes a half step forward, opening their mouth to speak when Lukman grabs a pitcher from his small table and launches it at them. Husani ducks instinctively and the pitcher sails out of the tent flap and they can hear it shattering on the hard packed earth outside. They glance behind them, then look up to meet Lukman’s blazing eyes as his breathing heaves through bared fangs.  


“I take it the talks are going poorly,” Husani says, quirking an eyebrow. Lukman has a far-reaching patience and good control over himself. To see him fall apart like this is unusual and unsettling, not that Husani would let him know that. He snarls, knitting his hands into his dreads and pulls until it looks like it hurts.  


“These fucking… politicians!” he snarls, pausing as if he cant find a word with enough disgust in it to describe the people he has to sit in an enclosed room with for hours every day. Most of the men have sent representatives or attend with speakers more eloquent and clever of the tongue than themselves, but Lukman trusts only himself not to explode into a feral fury in the middle of the meeting. It’s a valid worry but Husani wishes he would bring them.  


“Maybe I can go tomorrow and..”  


“No no that wont work, you’d have to deal with the same issues and their terror of you would make talks go even slower,” Lukman waved them, off turning on his paw for another round of pacing before stopping and flopping onto his cot, head in his hands. Husani suppresses their annoyance at his quick dismissal of their idea and instead steps closer to him, studying his tense frame.  


“Something happened, you wouldn’t be this worked up over the normal political bullshit.” Husani observes. Lukman lifts his head from his hands and meets Husani’s gaze evenly. His expression slowly shifts from angry to exhausted and he sighs. His hand runs through his dreads again, claws snagging on golden beads and clasps wrapped around the thick strands. Its obvious he is searching for words to express what has him so rattled and Husani moves to pull the single rickety chair away from the table and turn it so they can sit facing him. The two of them stay in silence for a long moment before Lukman lets loose another heavy exhale.  


“They are pressing for me to be one of the marriage candidates,” He says, voice rough. Husani tenses and feels their body jerk upright.  


“What? How dare they even suggest that? Are the other world leaders taking on spouses in the name of peace too?” they snarl gutturally, the rage that had seemed to flee Lukman infecting them.  


“Most are already married, or too old for the candidates put forward.” Lukman sighs heavily, knitting his fingers together and staring at the dirt floor. “I tried to offer a few high ranking Anubites or Lords I knew would be willing to make the sacrifice but they turned them all down. Most are military officers or elected officials, not fit to marry someone from their highborn families.”  


“And if the elected official looses their seat then the highborn is reduced to just another citizen along with them,” Husani says, a low growl building in their chest like distant thunder. Lukman jerks his head in a sharp assent, his face twisting into a sneer of disgust.  


“Its fucking ridiculous, I offered other ways for us to be tied to the alliance but they are determined to corner me in a marriage, as if that would be enough to leash me,” he snarls and is suddenly on his paws again, starting his pacing anew. A manic energy fills him, less contained rage and more of the caged animal feeling that permeated the camp. A predator that felt trapped and cornered and beginning to consider wilder and wilder escape routes. Husani watched him with narrow golden eyes.  


“Is it just because they want the marriage to be tied to a position made from blood right?” Husani asked slowly, calculatingly.  


“I assume so, not just to ensure their pretty highborn wont be voted out of good status but also to dead end my line. They know that I likely wont be able to have children with any elvish bride and are hoping to deprive me of heirs,” Husani watched his wild gesticulations as he spoke and nodded, more to themselves then anything. The angry lines in their body softened as they rubbed their chin with a hand, expression distant and thoughtful.  


“They want the marriage to have solid ties to our government, but they also want to create a sterile end to the bloodline,” they reiterated, and Lukman snorted.  


“Basically,” he grumbled, pacing another round before he paused. He turned to face them slowly, an expression of awful realization dawning on his face, “Husani…”  


“I can do it, I will marry their little highborn,” Husani cut him off sharply, meeting his gaze with a defiant tilt to their chin.  


“No, no that’s unacceptable. I wont let you!” he snarled, stepping closer to them and making a slashing motion with his arm.  


“What choice do we have? The men grow more and more tense the longer we are camped here and our food supplies dwindle as well.” Husani barked, jumping to their feet and lifting their head to meet his gaze head on, “I don’t know about you but I am tired Lukman. Tired of killing and fighting and watching my men die in this bloody war. I’m tired and if this marriage means there will be peace then I will gladly take part in it. I have no need for children and I do not want your crown. My status is sealed in my blood and besides you I am the only viable candidate that meets their requirements. You know this to be true!”  


Lukman looked taken aback, he rocked away from them swaying almost drunkenly before grief twisted his features. “You’ve given up so much for us Husani, you’ve exchanged one master for another. I don’t want you to give up your chance at choosing your partner and finding love out of service to your country once more.”  


“I’m making this my choice,” they said firmly, then their expression softened and they gave a strained laugh, “Besides, who says this marriage wont result in love.”  


The look Lukman sent them spoke volumes about his opinions on their optimism. The weak smile they’d slapped on melted and they stared at him, begging him to understand. They both knew this was the only path left for them but Husani could tell Lukman resented being corralled like this. He sighed, his shoulders heaving and the grief was thick in his voice and on his face.  


“Alright… alright Husani,” he murmured, he turned away from them and went to his table, pulling some parchment and quill out. “I will put forward your proposal tomorrow.”  


Husani dipped their head, even though his back was to him. They didn’t know what to say, thanking him felt… insincere. After a few seconds of mouthing wordlessly they turned and exited the tent. The talk had taken longer than they’d thought, the sun that had been dipping low on the horizon was now mostly settled, the skies cast in hues of blue, black, purple and stained bloody red on the horizon. Husani inhaled slowly, quieting their nerves and turned to stride through the camp. They had work to do.  


\-------  


 

The next day as the sun set Husani stood at the edge of camp, arms folded behind their back as they waited. They remained statue still, staring at the road Lukman would travel up when he returned to the camp with his news, sharply angled jackal head set against the reddening sky. The camp could sense the change in them, could sense the change in Lukman as he’d left to go to talks this morning and were reacting to it. Most of the camp was gathered between the tents behind them, watching them intently. Their eyes itched on Husani’s fur but they didn’t move, didn’t react. They just continued to watch the road, holding determinedly onto their composure.  


Their fingers flexed and a burst of sparks flared off their shoulders when Lukman’s gleaming white form appeared in the distance. Their legs twitched and their toes spread, digging claws into soil as if preparing to sprint. Husani stilled their body and anchored themself to the earth, refusing to give into the desire to run to meet him, to know the results of their offer quicker. Time seemed to crawl and as Lukman drew closer the chatter behind them quieted. Everything seemed to quiet. Lukman paused, stalling for an instant when he was about ten feet from them, before his resolve hardened and he covered the last bit of ground between them. Husani lifted their chin and squared their shoulders, falling into something like a parade rest as they met his gaze.  


The world was silent except for the soft whistling of the breeze and the flutter of the tents.  


“Husani Khepri, First Blood of the Order of the Blood Hunters, General to the Armies of Quain, Heir Apparent to the Throne of Quain and Head of House Khepri,” Lukmans voice was loud, his deep rumble carrying across the sparse distance to the tents beyond as he listed Husani’s titles. Each one felt like a weight on their back, a stone dropped onto their shoulders. Lukman’s face remained impassive but his eyes were swimming with apologies.  


“It has been decided that to help maintain peace you will be married to Lydian of house Libitano, “ he said and Husani’s eyes flickered shut, the words like a death knell even though they had volunteered, “In a weeks time the wedding will be held here in Thrones Perch after which we will all return to Quain, with your new spouse as well.”  


He inhaled and his voice grew softer, more intimate, closer to a friend than a leader. “Thank you, for helping cement this alliance, thank you Husani.”  


Their throat felt clogged and tight and they swallowed and nodded, thumping their chest with their fist and bowing slightly to him.  


“I am honored to be able to aid my country in this way,” they called back and Lukman looked openly aggrieved. He reached out and clasped their shoulder, his expression thick with emotion before he schooled himself back, regaining his poise. He turned and headed into the camp, Husani turning to follow behind him, mind spinning. As they passed between the troops they saw the Anubites lower their heads, a few reaching out to brush fingers over Husani’s fur, offering comfort and comradery. Mostly though there was respect and near reverence in their eyes. Husani nodded faintly to the few who reached out to touch them but otherwise was swallowed by the white noise in their mind. They let instinct guide their feet back to their tent as they reeled. It was one thing to offer your own hand up for a political marriage, it was another to have it confirmed formally.  


“When will I get to meet him,” they asked softly and Lukman’s back tensed.  


“They… they said he will have to travel here, they said you will not meet him until your wedding day,” Lukman’s voice was tight with contained anger and Husani felt nauseous. They wouldn’t meet their husband until both of them were swearing love and loyalty to each other, till death do we part.  


“Oh,” they replied, feeling that strange disconnection grow stronger. They sunk back into their thoughts, eyes lowered as they contemplated when a pressure rose from the back of their brain. Silken and shadowy the god that lived in their blood and mind pressed against their thoughts, amusement curling like smoke from his presence.  


_“For someone who hates to be chained, you certainly like to collar yourself to many masters,”_ Nuitari purred, as much in Husani’s ear as in their mind. They stalled for a moment caught in his words, their hands clenching until their claws pierced their skin and they began to drip blood onto the hard earth. Rage burned through them, hatred for the god they’d been forced to bind themselves to burned like bile in their throat. Rage and the consuming presence of Nuitari filled their mind blurring them to everything else. They felt Lukman’s hands on their arms just as they felt Nuitari grab their mind in his claws and drag them under. His shadows swallowing their consciousness as their legs gave out.  


_“I wonder… what do you have left to sell for the benefit of others?”_


	2. White Wedding

The maid lifted her hands away and his eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the slight heaviness of mascara on his lashes. He turned away from her and looked into the nearby mirror studying her handiwork with a critical eye. A soft huff escaped his lips and he snagged the fine brush from her hands before she could protest and leaned forward to carefully darken and draw out his eyeliner creating a much more dramatic cat eye. The look transformed the innocent aura she’d been trying to create into something much more sultry, something more him. He handed the brush back and tilted his head this way and that inspecting his image before nodding.

“You did a good job,” he said quietly. His father had insisted they go a somewhat more masculine route, so the painting of his lips only slightly highlighted their rosy color. His cheeks had been highlighted in equally rosy hues, his cutting cheekbones defined sharply. The only thing he’d been allowed was more eye makeup, and while his father might be soured by the brown smoky eye and dramatic eyeliner he could bite Lydian’s ass for all he cared. If he was marching to his death he was going to do it looking stunning. Everyone would regret selling him off to…

“I had a good canvas to work with,” the woman offered, smiling. He glanced at her and noticed her expression was brittle, her cheer forced. His mood curdled and he couldn’t help but shoot her a dark glare. Her eyes dropped to the ground instantly and she stepped away to clean her brushes, no longer meeting his sharp gaze. What did she have to be so tense about? It wasn’t like she was about to marry one of the most blood thirsty monsters on the continent. It wasn’t like she would have to end her day in a marriage bed with that… that… that _thing_ that had killed hundreds if not thousands of men and women. The horrifying imagery of Arbor’s Run surfaced like a bloated body as he wandered down that trail of thought and he suddenly had to swallow the gorge that rose in the back of his throat. The smell of burnt hair and cooked meat filled his nostrils, ash thick on his tongue and eyes watering from the smoke that rippled off the ground in thick near black billows. The bodies, piled so thickly you simply couldn’t not step on a corpse and the river literally overflowing it banks as a dam of scorched corpses blocked its path. He’d barely managed to hold his vomit when he’d first happened upon the slaughter, and even now the memory evoked nothing short of horror in him. The sheer magnitude of the massacre was incomprehensible even now and the information about the one responsible rattled him further.

_”The Hellhound, the demon from Quain. That desert creature did this, it slaughtered those men single handedly with fire and fang.”_

He shuddered, chilled despite the summer warmth in the room and wrapped his arms around himself. The fucking Hellhound, the General of Quain’s armies and second in command to their Pharaoh, the Anubite know as Lukman, or the Desert Ghost. Known for its sharp grasp of tactics, its characteristic use of fire and its overwhelming strength on a battle field. The stories he’d heard verged on the wild and fantastical at times but all seemed to agree on one thing. The Hellhound was a feral creature barely leashed by its ruler. It was cruel and blood thirsty and so far impossible to kill. Soldiers struggled to hit the Hellhound in a fight, let alone pierce its hardened skin. Even when an injury was incurred it never seemed to slow, never seemed to tire. It had been a relentless hunter, driving Launt Roco’s forces to exhaustion as they fled in the face of its fury.

“My lord,” he blinked startled from his spiraling thoughts and turned to look at the speaker. Aaliah was the only maid his father had brought from their estate and the only familiar one in the room. She was one of the closest things to a friend he’d found over the years isolated as he was by his father. Her face was gentle, her smile genuine, but there was sadness in her eyes. “We should get you dressed.”

He swallowed thickly, a strange grief filling his chest as he nodded and stood to follow her. Snark and sarcasm usually came so quick and easy to him. His wit was always sharp and he knew it. But today words seemed hard to find, his tongue was thick in his mouth and felt too heavy to move. He’d almost blame a spell if this feeling weren’t familiar. It was the same feeling he’d had the day of his mother’s funeral.

The outfit was obviously expensive, and he couldn’t help but twist his face up at the opulence of it. It was clear that the new King of Launt Roco had had a hand in the outfit, his father likely couldn’t have afforded such a lavish design even with their large estate. The outer robe was pearlescent white, with a fine matte pattern of flowers and curled vines on the fabric, highlighted as the light played across it as he moved. The pants underneath were also white and they’d given him a pair of soft deer skin boots that were a pale and cooler shade of tan. Everything had gold stitched detailing to it in more sinuous and curving vine designs. The gold stitching was not loud, instead it made him shimmer subtly, each movement of his highlighted by the reflective glimmer of thread at the ends of his sleeves and throat. The outfit hugged close around his torso and waist showing off his slim figure and he felt a moment of discomfort at how perfectly it all fit him. He wondered where the measurements had come from, he certainly hadn’t been fitted for it at any point. Measures had been taken to ensure he had no idea why he was going to Thrones Perch up until he was safely trapped inside and unable to bolt. As he watched in the full-length mirror, Aaliah gathered his long brown hair into a braid, slicking it with overly sweet smelling oils and weaving small metallic gold flowers into it. She carefully fitted a circlet of gold flowers and gleaming diamonds around his head, another show of wealth and power from Launt Roco. He looked like a prince, a status he surely didn’t hold, although he supposed he would soon enough since his partner to be was supposedly the Heir to Quain. Lastly Aaliah laid the only real dash of color over him, a rich brown cloak with red foliage designs around the edge and a silver bow with arrow in flight. His house colors and sigil.

“They’re really pushing for the whole pure virgin look aren’t they,” he mumbled, rubbing the white sleeve. It was laughable considering he’d gained a little bit of a reputation for sleeping around, it was just a way to further annoy his father and chip away at the family reputation as Alphonso scrambled to cover up each liaison. He snorted at the irony of the pure white outfit although his mirth was tempered by the situation at hand. Suddenly he felt a pressure on his shoulder and he jumped, glancing over at Aaliah. For once her pained expression wasn’t hidden behind false cheer and smiles like everyone else’s and instead she openly looked aggrieved as she touched him.

“My lord, perhaps its too familiar of me,’ she whispered eyes starting to take on a bright shine of restrained tears. “But thank you, thank you for doing this. My son… my son was going to be sent to the front lines this week but the peace will keep him at the castle because of you.”

His breath caught in his throat and he almost choked on air as he stared at her. With all his terror and anger he’d forgotten why exactly this marriage was happening, what it meant. Peace after nearly fifteen years of long bloody conflict. His was the first of five weddings meant to create solid political and familial ties between the former enemies. He was meant to be a leash for his partner and Quain in general, a physical embodiment of the treaty they’d signed. He was sold so that the blood shed would finally cease. 

The smell of smoke and cooked flesh invaded his nostrils again and he swallowed.

“Don’t thank me,” he said to her, offering a brittle smile. She sucked in a sharp breath and nodded sharply.

“I just… I just felt you should know. I’m not the only one who is grateful to you, especially for this sacrifice. You are brave to do this,” her tone strengthened as she pressed the issue. He strengthened his smile with a little more feeling and gave her an acknowledging nod. He hid his discomfort and anxiety deep beneath the façade, pretending she’d been able to comfort him. She deflated a little and returned his smile, tentative and shy. Suddenly she jumped as the door swung open revealing two of his fathers guards. Their heads were covered in ornate helmets so he couldn’t identify them from the ranks of men at home. Their facelessness made their brusque treatment of him even more painful.

“Come with us my lord,” They may have used his title but there was no respect in their tone. They all but grabbed him by the arms as they hustled him out of the room and into the hall. He cast one last backwards glance at Aaliah’s familiar face before the door swung shut with a solid thump and the last source of comfort he had was shut away. Anxiety dropped like a lead ball in his stomach as he turned forward and strode quickly to keep up with his escorts. He wished she hadn’t thanked him, it wasn’t like he’d volunteered. It was why he had guards, not to keep him safe, but to keep him from trying to run.

 

\-----

 

The guards guided him through the castle and he found himself focusing on the tapestries and views he passed as opposed to his final destination. He noted that a few stained-glass windows had been knocked out, stubborn brightly colored fragments clinging to the old frames. A few of the tapestries also looked newer, the lighter stonework underneath revealed where the previous occupants had once hung. The Tapestries themselves depicted mostly humans but he saw a few nods to the dwarves and dragonborn who had taken part in the Sharon Alliance. The humans were already steadily erasing the traces of elvish rule in the castle and the town below, making it as if an Elven king had not ruled in Thrones Perch for the past hundred years or so. The arrogance of it irked him and he couldn’t help but cast a sneer at a tapestry they passed depicting the new king, victorious on a bloody field. He was alone, no sign of the dragonborn or dwarves who helped him. Especially no sign of the Anubites whose timely entrance to the war had turned the tide in the Sharon kingdoms victory.

One of his guards shouldered him none too gently and he cast them another sharp glare as they moved him past the golden tapestry. The Elven king may be dead but his son still lived and had relocated his seat to Launt Roco. The Elves had sued for peace before the advancing armies could take more ground. He still wondered why the Sharon kingdoms had accepted the offers of treatise though. Quain had been introduce to the war just three years ago and in that time had radically changed the face of the conflict. The fresh armies and supplies that came from the desert caught everyone off guard, but the Anubites especially had proved to be game changing. Quain’s fighting forces in general were fearsome and hardy. They were known to be able to travel days on rations that would starve out most other armies. They were well trained and while forest combat had proven a problem for them, they were merciless on open ground and field. But with the mixed races that came from Quain also came the Anubites. The bipedal jackal creatures who had once been servants of Anubis.

Last anyone had heard, the Anubites had been a slave army to their god, sweeping over Quain and conquering it. The other nations had simply forgotten Quain, calling the nation and its people a lost cause and leaving it to rot. Anyone who ventured into the sands did not return and rumor had it that those who disappeared were sacrificed to appease the death god. Quain might as well have been utterly barren for all the concern the warring kingdoms had given it. Then suddenly Quainian soldiers flooded the battle fields, fresh to the conflict and very well trained. The Anubites, the race who was literally created and bred for war, alongside them. They were vicious fighters and even a small squadron was an easy match for any number of elvish soldiers. Many champions had fallen to Anubite claws in the months following their appearance on the landscape of the conflict. Within a year the faltering Sharon alliance regained its lost ground, in the next year they’d advanced past where the initial conflict lines had been drawn. By the third year they were banging down the gates of Thrones Perch and slaughtering the king and queen in their home. 

Quain and the Anubites had been instrumental in winning the war, without them Sharon would have crumbled. Without the Hellhound to burn a path directly to the capital they would have fallen into ruin.

But the tapestries told none of that story, he had yet to see a single Anubite in one of the images he passed. The story of the war recorded in bright threads for all the see and there was not a jackal head to be found. 

He was so lost in his thoughts about the war and the implications of the tapestries that he hadn’t even noticed they’d reached their destination.

“Empty headed boy,” his father growled quietly, grabbing his arm firmly and jolting him abruptly from his thoughts. He twitched but offered his father the coldest glare he could muster, even though the fear was starting to shake him apart from the inside out. He opened his mouth to snap out a biting remark when his father tugged him closer, tucking Lydians arm around his in a mimicry of the way most parents walked their children down the aisle, as if Lydian had put his hand on his father of his own volition.

“Hold your tongue, get through today and then youre no longer my problem,” Alphonso snarled, digging his fingers into Lydians hands and making him flinch slightly. Lydian glared at him one last time then cast his eyes downwards. His father made a satisfied sound, waved his hand and the massive doors before them swung open. 

The hall was strung in the new kings colors, intermingled with the old Elvish king’s colors. The symbolism of unity between the two kings was strong and took the place of the normal colors of the Houses that were being united by marriage. His families brown and red were no where to be found and he didn’t know the Hellhounds colors but he suspected they were not anywhere in the decor either. From past weddings he’d attended he noticed that the décor was cheap and quickly thrown together, there were no overflowing vases of flowers, or live birds fluttering nearby filling the air with song as would usually be seen at a wedding of this magnitude. The speed of the wedding likely contributed to that and he wondered why it had been so rushed in the first place. 

Then his attention was drawn away from the décor and the sparkling crowds of nobles towards the dais and his stride fumbled slightly. His stomach felt like it had been filled with ice water and it was slowly spreading through his veins. He licked his lips, his mouth dry as he watched the figures on the dais, illuminated by the sun shinning down through the windows behind them.

The first was the white Anubite, the king of Quain, Lukman. He wore white pants with gold chainmail over them, some kind of gold inlaid bracers and an ornate crown that curved around his head like a halo. He wore no shirt and his scarred torso was fully on display as he leaned closer and spoke into the ear of a much smaller figure. 

Compared to their king the Hellhound was… small. He saw a dark purple furred head above a cloak of bright turquoise. A golden Scarab surround by a ring of red flame was emblazoned on the cloak and as the Anubite turned to face him he could help but be slightly surprised by the sigil. He’d expected something more red and violent he guessed.

His partner to be turned and watched him as he approached. While their king may have been framed in a sun gold crown the actual rays of the sun haloed the Hellhound. Their ears were long and pointed and tilted towards him as molten gold eyes fixed on him. Their expression was intent, but he couldn’t read any other emotion off of their face. He’d never actually seen an Anubite up close before now and he found their canine features to be somewhat inscrutable. Their fur was a rich purple color and gleamed with a healthy gloss and unlike him their outfit was a riot of color. Besides the floor length turquoise cloak, they wore a vest and billowy pants in a warm off white color reminiscent of parchment. The vest covered most of their chest and tucked under a golden collar that covered their throat in thick segmented pieces. They wore a pair of worn brown leather boots that looked scuffed from use but that was the only more functional piece on their body. Unlike their king they were covered in gold. Gold earrings, gold bracelets, gold thread between turquoise and red segments on their outfit. Gold buckles on their belt and a gold and jewel encrusted dagger that hung from their hip. He eyed that last piece and couldn’t help but wonder who had let the Hellhound into the castle with a single weapon on them. 

Then suddenly he was at the base of the stairs leading up to the dais. His fathers grip on him prevented him from even faltering as they began to rise closer and closer to the alter and his intended. All thoughts of gold and weapons flew from his mind as he drew close to the Anubite and realized that while Lukman dwarfed them in size, it in no way meant they were small. They still towered above him by an easy two feet and the close proximity highlighted something new about them.

Lukman had scars, a record of battles fought and won written on his skin.

The Hellhound’s coat was smooth and sleek, not a single mark to be seen.

Then suddenly he was at the top of the dais. His father smiled and bowed to both Lukman and the Hellhound then turned and descended the stairs to his appointed place. Lukman’s ruby red gaze flicked from his father to him and then he turned back to the Hellhound. He patted their shoulder and Lydian could have sworn he read softness and guilt on the white Anubite’s face for just an instant. Then whatever the emotion was it was gone and Lukman descended the stairs as well to stand opposite of Lydians father with the Quain entourage. 

Lydian swallowed again, trying to get some sort of moisture going in his cotton dry mouth as he faced the priest and side eyed his fiancé. They were watching him too it appeared, even though they faced the priest as well. 

“We gather here today, under the eyes of the gods and the light of Pelor,” the priest began and Lydians gaze shifted forward. The small portly man droned on and on about the peace their unity would bring, about the obligations and ties of marriage and about the greater courage and work it took to create peace then propagate war and blah blah, blah blah, blah blah. Lydian noted that he neatly sidestepped any mention of love or children and seemed to focus more on the fiscal responsibilities one had to support their married partner rather than the emotional ones. He wasn’t sure about the richness of Quain, or what kind of society the Anubite ran. The more racist comments he’d heard implied they lived in dens dug into the sides of dunes and normally shunned actual civilization and classic housing but Lydian was not inclined to believe those extremes. The priest was reaching the end of his diatribe and he finished with a great pause as if to add weight to something he’d said. Lydian had missed it having tuned the man out somewhat. Then the older man turned toward the Hellhound and Lydian spotted the sweat glistening on his brow. 

“Husani, Head of House Khepri…” Husani, that was their name, Husani. It… fit them he supposed and Khepri sounded like a nice last name as well. 

“I do,” he blinked and glanced at the Anubite, their voice wasn’t as deep as he imagined it would be, there was some growl to it but despite the thick accent those two words sounded rather smooth. He’d been so wrapped up in learning their name he noticed he’d also missed the titles that must have followed it. 

“Lydian of House Libitano, do you vow to uphold these marriage bonds and honor your spouse?” The priest turned to him next. The whole room seemed to hold its breath and Lydian felt the cold chill sweep through him, winter gripping his heart.

“I do,” he managed, there was no running now, nothing short of a teleportation spell would help him escape and his magic was not advanced enough for that. The priest sent him a pitying stare then he brought forth a small golden dagger, a letter opener compared to the one hanging at Husani’s waist.

“Then by the power of the gods invested in me I ask you both to offer a drop of your life as a sacrifice so your marriage may be long lasting,” *… and happy* Lydian added the dropped second half of the saying, even as he offered his hand forward for the priest. The man pricked his finger and Lydian squeezed a few drops of his blood out into the bowl of water set on the alter. Beside him he noted Husani had merely pressed one sharp claw into a dark pad on their finger to draw blood. They turned their hand over and squeezed a few drops into the water and he sucked in a sharp breath as the bowl briefly lit up with flames. The fire died as quickly as it came and the priest fumbled, his face deathly pale and his sweating much more obvious now.

“Y-you are now married. Please c-cloak your s-spouse and bring him under the p-protection of your h-h-house,” he stuttered, looking frankly terrified. Lydian straightened a little as Husani turned to him and stepped closer, their larger frame looming. They stepped behind him and raised their hands to deftly unclasp the cloak of his house sigil and his house colors, letting it slide from his shoulders and onto the floor in a heap. Though the room was very warm the loss of the cloaks weight sent another chill through him and he shivered. He fixed his gaze on the stained-glass windows, gritting his teeth and keep his rebellious body still as he stared forward. There was a rustle of fabric and Husani’s large purple hands appeared again, affixing a pair of clasps in the shape of more scarabs to his outfit and attaching the bright turquoise cloak they’d been wearing to him. He turned slowly and held his hand out, moving on autopilot now only partially aware of his body’s actions. He knew the ceremony well, had the steps of it drilled into his brain. As he looked out over the crowd of nobles, some of which he knew, others he didn’t, he felt a hot hand take his own in a gentle grip. He wondered idlily who had taught the wedding ceremony to Husani, he doubted they had the same ceremony in Quain. 

“All rise for the Lords of House Khepri, for the Lords of Quain. Husani Khepri and Lydian Khepri,” The voice rang through the room and the men and women stood, clapping joyously and cheering. As they cheered Husani began to help him down the stairs, moving slowly with him step by step despite their much larger stride. His mind was in a fog, his body was not his own and he felt horribly detached from everything around him as the two of them passed back down the aisle. Even their hand around his didn’t feel real, like he wasn’t actually touching them in any way. They were nearly at the door when he glanced behind him.

Husani’s cloak was made for someone much taller than him and it spread out down the aisle like a wedding train on a gown. Beyond it, at the top of the dais in a sad little heap was his old cloak. The cloak of house Libitano. Lydian felt a small amount of vindication at the sight of it, feeling somewhat more present in that moment as spite reared its head. Whatever the outcome of his marriage, the sight of his fathers proud sigil left forgotten and unwanted on the floor in favor of his new much more vibrant cloak filled him with satisfaction. Then he and Husani stepped through the door and out into the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I blatantly stole the idea of giving cloaks to your spouse from Game of Thrones. Fight me, I dare you.


	3. King and Country

He sat alone in the room, fully dressed but trying to delay leaving for as long as he could. The outfit he’d changed into was less ornate and complex. A simple cream tunic and dove grey pants. There were gold threads in this outfit as well but the design was more geometric than sinuous like his ceremony outfit had been. There were little boxy flowers in red and turquoise along the tunics hem and he guessed the outfit had been brought from Quain as was custom. The bride usually wore an outfit brought by the grooms family. 

He turned over and over in his hand the small gold scarab that matched the one on Husani’s turquoise cloak to a T. The only difference was this one had his named carved in sphinx across the beetles back. Or at least that was what the Anubite female who had given it to him had said. She had introduced herself as Lapis and claimed it was a custom in Quain for members of the married couples pack to give meaningful gifts to the new spouse. His name on the scarab was not only a tie to his new house, but also a status symbol of high-ranking lords and royalty. As he turned the little scarab over he grudgingly admitted it was pretty.

He flopped backwards onto the bed and sighed heavily. He didn’t want to go back out there. He didn’t want to go to the feast and sit and smile and pretend he was happy. He didn’t want to sit next to his fiery spouse and endure the pitying looks sent to him from other lords and ladies. He would rather just have the bedding ceremony now and get it over and done with.

He heard voices pick up outside of his door but ignored them. It was likely just the guards discussing the wedding.

Then the voices grew louder and louder and he heard an animalistic snarl. He sat bolt upright as the door swung open abruptly and Lukman entered the room. Lydian froze like a rabbit beneath a wolfs gaze before his face twisted into a cold expression. Lukman’s red eyes burned and his muscular arms bulged as he clenched his fist. His large stature and the sheer aura of command he wielded made him such a domineering presence Lydian almost didn’t notice who accompanied him.

Like a shadow, the much smaller Husani followed Lukman in and shut the door behind them. Their gold eyes met his and for a moment they held his gaze before turning to Lukman and asking something of him in their lilting tongue. Lukman answered and whatever the subject was he saw how displeased Husani looked. Their ears flicked back and their follow up had a biting tone to it. Lukman huffed and turned his shoulder to them.

“You should speak common, we are leaving your husband out,” he rumbled and Lydian twitched at the reminder that he was now married to this Anubite. The purple creature glanced at him and then at Lukman and sighed heavily.

“I’m sorry little Lord, I mean no disrespect,” they intoned, and Lydian had to restrain the urge to snort at them. He’d wondered a little at the calm they’d displayed thus far and it made sense that Lukman was responsible for it. Quain’s Pharoh obviously knew the game of politics and knew to keep his bloodthirsty General under wraps.

“Why are you here?” he asked instead, raising his chin and standing. Compared to both Anubites he was puny but he tried to collect himself and project confidence. Lukman’s stern face eased and he smiled. It looked a little threatening, full of sharp teeth, but the crease of his brow told Lydian there was no malice in it. He was glad the white Anubite was more open and easier to read, his partner was inscrutable by comparison and it made him nervous. 

“I have a request to make of you,” Lukman demurred, moving across the room towards the chairs. Lydian tensed subtly and made sure not to turn his back to the Anubite. “Its nothing untoward, simply a ceremony of a…. more personal nature.”

“What kind of ceremony?” Lydian felt his arms cross, and he forced them back down to his sides, trying to not appear defensive. Lukman looked at him once more after moving the chairs away from the wall and setting them up beside each other. The king made a gesture with his hand and Lydian watched as Husani moved to sit in one of the chairs immediately. He noted that they looked … confused, despite their obedience. 

“When we were informed of this marriage, we requested that some of our own customs be integrated into the ceremony. We were firmly denied,” he said calmly, pulling a bag from his hip and beginning to unload it onto a side table. Lydian noticed an array of needles and jars filled with shimmering jewel colored liquids. It wasn’t until he pulled a long silken cord of woven black and white strands that Husani gasped softly, a stricken look on their face.

“So this is one of your customs?” He asked slowly, watching his new spouse carefully. Emotion was written in their eyes and all across their face and he was frustrated that he couldn’t even begin to decipher the feelings. Were they sad? Touched? Angry?

“Yes.” Lukman said calmly, running his hands over the cord, his face forlorn. “You see oaths are something that are taken seriously in Quain, especially to Anubites. Once we were all bound to the god Anubis, he controlled us completely. Since we freed ourselves we take oaths to others very seriously. To choose to bind yourself to another in any capacity is not taken lightly and we pride ourselves on keeping our promises. We choose our masters now, we choose how much or how little we wish to bind ourselves.”

He coiled the cord and looked up, meeting Lydians gaze, “As such weddings among Anubites are of great importance. To promise to remain loyal to someone, to promise your everlasting love and fidelity and bind your lives together through health and sickness is not something any Anubite takes lightly. We fought for the right to love, to be free, to choose and we treasure that right we understand the responsibility and weight of such promises.”

Lydian swallowed suddenly and glanced at Husani again. Their face had become neutral but he could see an echo of pain in their eyes. He suddenly felt sickened, Lukman was clearly trying to impress a lesson upon him. Anubites prized the ability to choose their loves, they prized loyalty and strong oaths.

They prized their freedom and Husani’s choice had been taken in this marriage. 

He wondered if they’d been just as cornered into this as he was. Had Lukman ordered them to marry him, had he played upon the oaths of fealty they must have sworn to him as his General? Were they bitter that their choice was stolen from them just as surely as his had been? Were they bitter they had been forced to bind themself to him?

“So how does this play into that?” he asked, cringing inwardly at the sharp edge to his voice. He sounded bitter and aggressive, petulant like a child and he hated it. He felt frustration at the entire situation building in his chest. His heavy aggression at Husani and his father redirected somewhat onto Lukman. 

“Many times when an Anubite swears an oath they tattoo themselves to commemorate it. When the oath is broken or they no longer wish to uphold it they burn the tattoo off.” He stated calmly, gesturing to the seat beside Husani. Their head swiveled to watch him as he hesitated, his arms coming up to cross defensively again. Slowly he approached the chair and took as seat as Lukman began to speak again, “For wedding tattoos, the artist usually creates a piece that represents the bond or something that the couple wants in the marriage. I’ve not done one before but… if you two don’t mind I would like to do your tattoo.”

“I thought this was all about choice, why would you want this for our sham marriage,’ the words spilled without him meaning them to. He froze and glanced between the two of them. Husani’s shoulders squared and he noticed Lukman had tensed, his gentle expression growing brittle. 

“I did choose this,” he jolted, his partner hadn’t said more than five words since he’d met them and their voice surprised them. Like Lukman their accent was thick, and there was a growl to it. But it wasn’t as deep as he’d assumed it would be and it was smooth and dulcet. Their gold eyes drew his and he felt them burning into him, branding into his very soul “I chose to marry you, to end this bloody war. I chose to save the thousands of lives that would have been sacrificed if this war had kept dragging on for several years. I chose to bring you into my house and under my name and end my line with us. Do not call my choice a sham.”

The silence that fell was complete and Lydian swallowed thickly. Small sparks lifted off their shoulders and the temperature in the room had increased by several degrees. Lydian should have felt fear sitting so close to one of the most feared warriors of Quain but instead anger sharp and searing rose in him. So they had chosen, they’d been given an option and walked into it with eyes open. Free choice. 

A choice he had not been given at all.

“How old are you?” He asked tightly and they blinked. The temperature dropped again and he noticed Lukman’s body relax from the corner of his eyes. He guessed it was comforting to know that if his spouse had lunged at him their king would have intercepted them. He wondered pessimistically if that would last once he was safely ensconced in the desert.

“… I’m seventeen,” they murmured and he tried to hide his shock. They were only a year older than him and had been a killer for as many years as he’d been alive if not more. They were young and a General, a feared warrior and had married themselves off for peace if they were to be believed. “and yourself?”

“Oh uh… I’m sixteen,” he said quietly, and they flicked their ears and nodded. Their own opinions on his age were concealed behind their unreadable face. 

“Husani is right.” Lukman interrupted and both of the new couple jumped and looked at him, “This marriage holds the hope for a lasting peace. Quain looks to **both** of you to uphold it, to carry this hope. I also personally have the hope that this marriage will not be a ‘sham’ as you put it.”

Lydian flushed lightly and jerked his chin up to give Lukman a defiant look. It was nice that the king wanted their marriage to be all hearts and butterflies but it would have been better for his actual fucking spouse to want that. “So what do I have to do?”

Lukmans smile was bright and full of obvious relief. Lydian noted that Husani also sagged with some relief at his side. He watched Husani lift their hand and lay it palm up on the table Lukman had moved between them. Lukman directed Lydian to lay his hand palm up in theirs and they folded their fingers over his hand and he folded his down as well. Their hand was hot and he noted it was rough and actually had skin instead of fur. Lukman took the black and white silk cord and began to wind it around their arms and hands, binding them together, he started to speak in a language that must have been Sphinx as he did so. Each new loop of the cord was accompanied by a hushed line spoken in the Kings deep voice and the cadence of it was almost soothing. Husani’s eyes slid shut and their fingers twitched over his palm as Lukmans hands brushed their inner arm on a rotation. A dark thought entered Lydian’s mind, a speculation about the apparent closeness of the two but he quickly shoved it down for later inspection as Lukman switched to common smoothly.

“I will begin the tattoo, it will be small for now, we don’t have much time,” he said then pulled the colorful inks and needles closer and set to work. He darted between both of them, moving swiftly and deftly with such accuracy the lines developing looked like mirror images. Lydian watched at first, twitching and grabbing Husani’s hand with a clenched grip at the pinpricks of pain. He jumped suddenly when their fingers squeezed him back gently almost like they were offering him comfort?

He looked up meeting their eyes once more and was shocked as they offered him a soft almost shy smile. It sort of hammered home the fact that they were so close to his own age. He hadn’t really thought about it but he’d assumed on some level they were several years his senior. It kind of… made it a lot better that they were his age. Their eyes had burned before but now they were simply molten gold. Warm and gentle in a way he didn’t think was possible before. They were nothing like he expected thus far, they were nothing like he thought they’d be. He didn’t know what was coaching and control from their king and what was their actual personality. He’d only head rumors of their character but in truth they weren’t even half as aggressive as they’d been made out to be. Sitting so close and so still he found himself studying their features, drinking in details he hadn’t been able to gather during the ceremony.

Their head was angular, and slimmer than Lukman’s but not as pointed as the Anubite guard Lapis. Their ears were long and slightly curved and had earrings running down both sides like shimmery seams. He spotted tattoos on their hip and he noted they were a darker shade of gold then the ones around their eyes which were whiter. His initial assessment of a lack of scars was incorrect. He noted fine lines laddering their flanks just below their ribs where the vest they wore ended. They looked like the raised lines of knife or sword wounds, not deep ones, but enough to cut flesh and he wondered at their origin. They seemed very even and… intentional, almost. They were obviously heavily muscled, but leaner built, more aimed for agility and speed. Their coat gleamed with a healthy gloss and was short and fine, suited for the desert they hailed from. He couldn’t say they were unattractive, but as his gaze returned to their melting gold eyes he felt another swell of emotion in him. His face crumpled into a scowl and he turned his head away to stare at the far wall. Lifting his free hand to rest his elbow on the chair arm and his chin on his hand, he tried to project an aura of indifference even though rage simmered in his heart. 

They’d had a choice it seemed, they’d had a choice regarding the marriage, and they’d chosen him. They had the luxury of a choice he hadn’t been offered and it pissed him off that everyone around him had agreed upon and arranged this marriage and simply forgot to include him in the negotiations. Or well excluded him altogether. Hs throat constricted and he fought back the emotion that threatened to well in his eyes as he tried to swallow the lump. He closed his eyes and turned his mind from the hopelessness of his situation. Instead he focused on his memories of Arbor’s Run, of smoked black fields and rivers choked with corpses. He let the tang of ash sit on his tongue and reminded himself why he hadn’t forced his father to drag him actually kicking and screaming to the alter. Reminded himself why he sat now and endured that tattoo that marked him as Husani’s like a brand marks a cow. Those men and women who had died and had yet to fall, were the reason he tolerated this. His people that would be safe and be able to prosper in peace were the reason he let Lukman ink him and the priest marry him without a peep escaping him.

He had a responsibility and if this was how he could carry it out then so be it.

At long last Lukman's work was done, he sat back laying the needles on the table as Lydian turned to inspect his new tattoo. The first thing he noticed was that seated on his wrist was a skull, it seemed a dark choice considering what Lukman had said about symbolism of the tattoos. The skull was inked in gold and from its eye sockets and around it, flowers bloomed in jewel tones. It was detailed and elegant and perfectly matched the one on Husani's wrist. 

"Why a skull?" he asked. 

"This war was filled with death, but from it hope may bloom," Lukman said his expression gentle. Lydian turned again to inspect the glittering symbol on his wrist. Was this really what Lukman hoped to see in his marriage, was this peace that important to them? He looked up at his new spouse who was studying the tattoo with the same level of intensity he had. Their face was still inscrutable to him but he could read a certain level of emotion in their eyes, sadness but maybe hope as well. He inhaled slowly rubbing a thumb over his brand-new marking. 

“It's beautiful," he said quietly. Lukman offered a small smile then turned as a knock sounded on the door. 

"Looks like our time is up," he rumbled, he stood and began to pack away his needles and ink, carefully unwinding the cord from around their arms and freeing them from each other. Lydian watched as Husani stood as well rubbing their wrist. They turn to him eyes cold once more and offered a hand. 

"Will you allow me to escort you?" he looked into their eyes, at their face that no longer held the emotion it once had. He closed his eyes for just a moment thinking back on that smoke and ash filled field. Then stood and tucked his hand into their arm. 

"Let's go. After all it's our party," he said voice filled with faux cheer. They did not comment on his tone and led him through the door out into the hallway. Lukman and Lapis awaited then there along with his father's two guards. He ignored all of them and instead remained by his new spouses’ side, arm in arm hand in hand. Presenting a unified front against all those who said that it would not work. He had to, he knew that he had to for the sake of peace if nothing else.

 

The feast passed in a blur for Lydian, a haze of simpering nobles, pitying looks and lots and lots of alcohol. Entertainment swirled through the hall one brightly colored costume after another but Lydian found more interest in his cup then in the dancers. As the night dragged on the ache from his fresh tattoo settled deep into his wrist dulled by the booze in his system. His temper shortened piece-by-piece as he stared at his quiet spouse who ate plenty but drank minimally next to him. They spent most of their time speaking in quiet Sphinx to either Lukman or one of the well-wishing Anubites who approached the table. He noticed his father sitting with the Royal contingent from Launt Roco, rubbing elbows with Lords and Ladies whose status would have far exceeded his own in the past. It seemed that selling off your son for a political marriage that helped keep your country out of war earned you some rank. Lydian swallowed another hefty gulp of wine in an attempt to block such thoughts from his mind. He wasn't drunk yet but he was certainly on his way there when a ruckus began in the back of the room. 

Fists pounded on tables and soon he made sense of the words that were being shouted by drunken slurred voices. 

"Bring on the bedding. Time for the bedding ceremony" they roared and Lydian felt his stomach drop once more. The conquering King from the Sharon Kingdoms glanced over at the new King from Launt Roco and both stood, nodding to each other. As if that was a signal a crowd moved towards the table, a wall of raucous men and women. They heaved up his chair on their shoulders and carried him from the hall as he clutched the arms tightly. normally they would have lifted up the groom too but he could see that the crowd swirled uncertainly around the Hellhound. He saw a few Anubites stepping up next to his spouse before the crowd carried him out of the hall and around the corner. He held on tightly to the chair as they move through the hallways of the castle, the crowd boisterous as they sang crude songs and made jeering comments. He couldn't help but think that with just a little bit of mead and wine crowd of nobles had been transformed into a witless mass. He heard a bang and the crowd was funneled into the kicked open doors of a bedroom. The chair tilted, dumping him into waiting hands as people roughly slapped him on the back and shoved him towards the bed, laughter and jokes accompanying them. Fear bit into him once more not just anxiety and he tensed as a hand gripped his tunic almost as if to rip it when a thunderous snarl pierced the air. 

Husani stood in the doorway claws flexed and flames just starting to spark along their back. For the first time since he met them they truly looked like the Hellhound of legend, vicious and near feral. The room had gone dead silent the crowd watching them in nothing short of terror. They took a half step forward lips lifting to expose long sharp fangs another deep growl rising from their chest. 

“Get out,” they snarled, and without waiting a single second more the crowd fled past them. The room was empty in a matter of moments the silence stunning compared to the cacophony that had filled it previously. Lydian stayed by the bed, tense as he watched them waiting for their next move. The aggression bled from Husani's form, exhaled from them in more sparks and flickers of flame. They tossed their head shaking it like a dog shakes water from its ears before looking behind them where Lukman and a few other Anubite stood. They murmured something in Sphinx then shut the doors behind them sealing Lydian in the room with them. 

He tensed again, waiting for them to make some move towards him, but instead they walked off to the side picking up and inspecting an array of glass vials that were arranged artfully on the nightstand. The minutes dragged on and when they showed no sign of joining him by the bed Lydian sat down heavily and glared at them. 

“What are you waiting for,” he snapped, stress cutting his temper short. They looked up at him and for the first time that night he could easily read their expression. Their eyes and face were mournful and guilty filled with so much pained emotion that it stole his breath briefly.

“I have never slept with someone who is not willing and I do not want to start now,” they said softly staring at him with those deep gold eyes. Lydian swallowed thickly, thrown completely off balance. He had no idea how to respond to that what to say to that. This entire day had not gone as he assumed it would and with every word and every action Husani was rewriting his preconceived notions. 

“We have to,” he said weakly, “our marriage will be considered null if we don't.” 

“Marriage is more than sex,” Husani snarled bitingly. 

“It isn't when a peace treaty is on the line,” he snapped back. Husani looks like they've been slapped and their attention returned to the glass vials. Lydian glared at their back feeling on the verge of tears with stress, discomfort and anxiety. This day had not gone as he thought it would and he just wanted it to be over and done with. But not only that he did want it to work. He glanced down at the shimmering jewel toned marking that now sat on his wrist. Death have been a mark of war but life and hope would bloom after. That is what Lukman had been trying to convey with his tattoo. Whether it was simply another political stunt or it was the truth Lydian didn't know nor did he care at the moment. He had a responsibility and everything kept cycling back to that that responsibility. 

“I appreciate the sentiment, but we have to.” He reiterated quietly, but more firmly than before.

“No one in Quain will check to see if we fucked.” Husani bit out, their back to him and wasn't that nice to know.

“I want our marriage to be considered legal in Launt Roco and Sharon as well,” he said softly. They looked at him and this time turned fully away from the vials to study him. He shuffled knowing that the admission said more than he probably meant for it to and trying to hide his discomfort at that fact.

“I won't force you, not in this, never in this. I can't promise that there are not things I will ask you to do that you will not want to do. Things you must do for the sake of the country you will be serving alongside me. But your bed is your own it will always be your own and if you do not want me there then I will never invade it,” The statement took the breath from Lydians lungs, he stared at them in shock trying to find the lie in their eyes. But their face was stern, their gaze open and truthful. They were being 100% honest with him here and now in this moment. 

It was enough.

He stepped forward, at first tentatively then quicker. He crossed the short distance to them although it felt like a gulf and paused just in their personal bubble. They waited unmoving and watching, expression honest and body language open. He moved a step closer until he could feel the heat radiating off of their tall form and stood up on his tiptoes although knew that it would not get him high enough. He lifted one hand and shakily dragged it across their jaw, before curling it around the back of their head. They dipped down to accommodate him, bending their upper body over him in a way that felt enclosing. He forced down the anxiety that tried to rise up again and instead closed the last few inches between his lips and theirs. It was a chaste kiss, a little awkward as he tried to sort out their stranger anatomy. They had lips but the muzzle was a little hard to navigate at first. He drew back and stared at them finding that their eyes had slid shut and were now flickering open again. They exhaled slowly then lifted their hands and rested them gently on his hips. 

“Are you sure?” they checked with him again. he nodded firmly shutting down the part of him that screamed in negation. At his assent Husani gently lifted him and carried him back towards the bed. The show of strength under normal circumstances would have been incredibly arousing but he found that it at least did not cause him any more concern or anxiety. They set him down and set about undressing and he followed suit. From the corner of his eye he scoped them out as they shed their clothes and couldn't help but feel a little burst of warmth, a spark of attraction on the basest physical level. Their form was muscular cut into strong lines and sleek, a warrior born and bred. He couldn't help but lament their circumstances, perhaps in another life he would have enthusiastically joined them, he would have been more than happy to have them as a spouse if they looked as they did. Perhaps in another life they weren't a ruthless killer. 

He shook such thoughts off brushing away silly dreams and instead reached out brushing along their sides and over their chest with delicate fingers and hands. He rubbed his palms over their neck ignoring what felt like bite mark scars beneath their fur. He cupped their face once more and lent back guiding them down over him. Except in the next instant they wrapped their arm underneath his body and flipped both of them over. He found himself sitting astride them and the tension that he hadn’t even noticed building in him, the fear of being trapped, abated immediately. They rubbed their thumbs in small circles in his lower back and looked up to him. 

“You set the pace,” they said and feeling somewhat relieved he leaned down over them and pressed his lips to theirs once more. This was something he could work with at least, this was familiar.

For king and country, he thought sardonically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consent is a hard line to tread in some areas but I tried to make it clear that despite his responsibilities Husani did not pressure him and in the end he made the choice. Theres a lot of lines I'm willing to toe but this is not one of them. A healthy relationship cannot really grow from any kind of nonconsensual sex, no matter the nice fantasies fanfiction sometimes paints. If there are ways you feel i could clarify this please leave a comment.


	4. Golden Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that Anubites give wicked big hickey's. Feelings are hard when you're sixteen and full of angst, anxiety and trauma. Husani's pack competes for best friend of the year, Ebonee is currently winning. If one person has a vagina and another person has a penis and theyre super close best friends then inevitably someone is going to assume they are currently or have fucked because people are like THAT™.

Consciousness broke over Husani like a wave upon a beach, breaking them from their deep slumber in an instant. Years of training and iron clad self-control kept them from jerking upright and disturbing the small form that clung to their chest, but only just barely. Years of war had made them paranoid, early and quick to wake and often light to sleep. They’d spent so much time alone in their own tent or an arms distance from Lukman or a packmate that waking to the sensation of touch had their mind spinning into aggression. They slowly turned their head, morning sunlight glinting on glossy fur as they surveyed the room and its contents, ensuring there were no prying eyes. 

The lanterns had dimmed and died sometime in the night and now the only light in the room shone through parted curtains, shimmering gold with motes of dust. Their clothes were scattered across dark wood floors, the gold threading on both outfits gleaming in the morning sun. The sound of birds twittered outside the windows but otherwise the room was utterly silent save for the soft breathes of Husani and Lydian. Speaking of the small half-elf, sometime in the night he had rolled into them, curling into their side. His pale skin glowed in the morning light and his long brown hair cascaded across the bed sheets and Husani’s arm. They slowly lifted their hand away from his back and carded it through the soft glossy strands, reveling in the texture and the floral scent that lifted from him as they did so.

His head and arm rested on their chest, rising and falling with each of their breathes. His face was slack in sleep and they admired his relaxed expression. He was beautiful, fair faced and pale skinned and as delicate as a bird. Husani had feared they’d break him with a touch. But last night he’d shown them fire as well, a deep well of passion and razor sharp wit hidden behind a façade of delicacy. He had bite to him and Husani was glad for it, happy their partner wasn’t some weak and simpering flower. They would have made an effort either way but at least Lydian was someone they’d be attracted to in any other circumstance. But any attraction was cooled by his anger and his fear. Husani had somewhat expected anger, they were distantly aware of the rumors the elves spread about the Anubites and about them. They knew the reputation they’d garnered and considered it well earned. So they’d known that their elvish bride would likely look at them and only see the blood of their kinsman dripping from Husani’s jaws. But the fear, the fear was something Husani had not really anticipated. They were at peace, and while a thirst for vengeance for fallen countrymen was something Husani had expected, the hunted look in Lydian’s eyes was not. His fear perturbed them.

Sighing deeply Husani let their head flop back onto the bed as their eyes slid shut. Everything was so fucked up, the war, the treaty, this fucking marriage. Everything felt confusing and overwhelming and all Husani wanted was to go home, to be safe in their own bedroom and take the time to understand their new husband, to coax him into talking to them. Maybe then something real could be built between the two of them, something solid. They wanted stability in their life once more after all this chaos and upheaval. It was time for them to fucking rest. 

With that thought spurring them they slowly wrapped their arms around him and shifted him carefully off their chest. He grumbled a little, his face scrunching up cutely, nose wrinkling with the movement but remained asleep as they shifted him onto the mattress. He snuggled deeper into the pillows and blankets, humming softly as he settled back to sleep. Husani winced a little as he rolled over, the blankets slipping down his body revealing the pale lines of his back that was crisscrossed by angry red claw marks, evidence of their activities last night. But those were tame in comparison to the purpling bite mark that fit over one of his shoulders. Husani cringed at that one too, so much for iron clad control. It didn’t matter how long it had been since they’d had a lover, their marks on Lydians body were unacceptable. 

‘Especially since he probably was going to be repulsed by their presence,’ Husani though morosely. 

Husani turned away from the bed and gathered their clothes, pulling on pants and boots and exiting the room. Outside the door they found a package with new clothes and breakfast on a tray. It had clearly been set for two with an ample amount of meat on the plate to cater to Husani, but the thought of eating made their stomach clench. Instead they lifted the entire bundle and moved it inside the room, setting the tray and the clothes side by side on a table so Lydian would be able to easily spot them when he woke up. They brushed fingers over Quainian cloth colored a gentle sky blue and patterned with reeds. Already they were changing his outfit, his clothes and something about that didn’t sit right.

Husani inhaled slowly, exhaling their confusion and frustration and sweeping it aside mentally as they turned and exited the room once more. Traversing the hallways they carefully avoided the castle guards and workers until finally a familiar face appeared as they walked back towards the kitchens. 

“I thought there would be more of a guard around our room,” they commented, holding a hand out to the elvish man suddenly walking at their side. He deposited a pair of sheathed scimitars into their hands along with a string of hand axes, ornate metal tipped javelins and a pair of bracers with scorpions carved into them. They began reattaching their weapons to their body, clasping the bracers around their wrists and inhaling as the magic pumped through them once more.

“We had more last night but many shuffled around to cover as many… key zones… as we could this morning,” he responded, his voice was dulcet and growly, but pleasant, almost like he was singing.

“Lukman?” they asked, glancing out a window as they changed paths to the courtyard.

“Already gone, got the army moving early this morning. He said you would ride to catch up with him,” He rattled off, “We’ve got a small contingent ready to escort you whenever you’re ready.”

“Lydian isn’t up yet, is someone watching him now that I’m gone?” Husani passed an elvish maid who stared hard at their back. They turned their head slightly, watching her from the corner of their eyes as she picked up her skirts and hustled off down the hall.

“I’ve got a few tasked to discretely keep watch over him, but I honestly don’t think anything will happen to him while we’re still in Thrones Perch,” He responded, a light chuckle following the statement. Husani grunted softly in response.

“Then you are blind, if anything he’s in the most danger out of all of us,” they said sharply, shoving the heavy oak door open and stepping out into the sunlight. They paused in the sunshine, tasting the fresh sea breeze as it ruffled their short dark fur. “Azim, I have a request to make of you.”

“Anything your grace,” He sank into the shadows, almost disappearing in the dark entryway.

“Lydian is now a… a keystone. People from Quain will try to hurt him because they perceive him to be a spy, a leash to tame us and people from other nations will try to hurt him and pin it on us. They want a reason to restart the war and make it our fault.” Husani inhaled shakily, their arms folding behind their back and their hands fisting. “He will also be… alone. Trapped in a new place without support without familiarity. He wont trust me I’m too obvious, too central to the issue but you…” they looked at him, “You are nothing to him now, a blank slate.”

“What do you need me to do?” he asked slowly sounding confused.

“I’m assigning you to him, you’re to be his personal guard loyal to him above all else. Above even me,” Husani trailed off, brow furrowed in consternation, “and please be his friend, be someone he can trust. Be a support for him in these troubled times, someone I cannot be just yet. I think you might be able to understand him.”

Azim shrank into the shadows further. His skin was dark and his hair rich black and smooth. His eyes gleamed a piercing green even from the dark as he mulled over their request. It was something Husani had always appreciated in Azim, he never leapt to fulfil their requests. He thought them through, even questioned them at times. Husani was never worried he would make a foolish mistake or overlook a detail when given a task because he parsed it over meticulously before he even accepted it. They waited patiently while he processed, watching his face for the minute expressions that would betray the path his thoughts took him.

“Am I supposed to lie to him?” He asked slowly and Husani inhaled, thinking that question over themself.

“If you find that you cannot build a friendship with him honestly I ask you to find someone you think he can bond with. Barring that at least… be in his good graces, be loyal.” They answered and he nodded thoughtfully.

“Alright I can do that. When does this task start?” He asked and Husani looked up catching a flicker of sky blue fabrics pattered with reeds at the end of the hall.

“Right now.”

\---------

 

Lydian woke alone to morning sunshine and twittering birds. He blinked slowly and yawned, his jaw stretching until it popped. He grumbled and sat up running a hand through his long tangled brown hair, tugging on the knotted ends with frustration. Usually he was careful to braid it down before he went to bed so it wasn’t such a hassle in the morning. He lifted his left hand to his head to see if he could find any of the pins that had been set into it last night and was immediately set upon be an ache in his shoulder. Frowning he began to roll from the bed when he froze.

He slowly looked around the room, inspecting it visually and listening as hard as he could for any sounds of movement. His feast outfit from last night had been picked up and set on a table, folded neatly. Beside it sat a silver tray laden with breakfast foods and a fresh outfit of sky blue. He couldn’t see Husani’s clothes anywhere or any signs of their presence besides the small speckling of purple fur on the bed. Slowly he brushed his hand over the mattress and noticed the indent where the Hellh-… where his spouse had slept was still warm. They’d only just left then.

Inhaling slowly to steady himself Lydian stood from the bed and padded to the adjoining bathroom. There he found a full length mirror and a he took a moment to take inventory. His sore shoulder had a large bruise on it that matched the shape of Husani’s jaws. He rolled the arm a few times, pressing his fingers into the marks and inspecting them carefully. There were no punctures and for all intents and purposes the bruising was as superficial as the scratches on his back that barely hurt as well. He was a little surprised, he’d expected a little more damage than an overly large hickey and some kitten scratches. His fingers traced the mark, just a bit reverently as a part of his mind swam back to last night, to heat and passion and panting breaths. He remembered them fitting their jaw over his shoulder, clamping down as if to hold him but not hard enough to hurt him. Their tongue on his shoulder and their hot breath fanning over his skin as he panted into their ear.

He jolted back flushing darkly at the memories. At least his wedding night hadn’t been the painful and uncomfortable affair he’d feared. Husani had been a generous and talented lover. His face darkened a little more and he scrubbed at one traitorous cheek with the heel of his hand. Stupid pale skin and the ease it blushed with. 

“Oh my god,” the voice behind him had his whirling to face the intruder, a spell sparking across his fingertips. He relaxed instantly as he registered the “intruder” as Aaliah, his maid. The half-elf women’s hands covered her mouth and she looked pale and shocked, her eyes just a tad too glossy.

“Oh Lydian, your shoulder,” She whispered taking a step forward her expression horrified. Lydian blinked at the casual address before his hand jumped to cover the hickey on his shoulder. 

‘It’s fine, it looks worse than it actually is,” he said dismissively, turning to grab a robe to cover himself with, suddenly very aware of his nudity. When he turned back to her Aaliah still looked shocked but there was anger in her dark brown eyes.

“I saw the Anubite with one of its soldiers and I figured I should come and check on you,” she said, folding her hands together in a mimicry of the demure way maids were supposed to present themselves. He noticed however the whiteness in her knuckles that betrayed the clench in her grip. He inhaled slowly, closing his eyes. So there wasn’t going to be much of a break was there.

“They,” he corrected smartly sweeping past her back into the bedroom. Having left he now noticed a faint muskiness in the air that had his ears pinking again. He frowned in frustration, why was he so fucking flustered now? He was no blushing virgin. He swept aside the weird ball of emotions in his belly and moved to the breakfast plate, noting the rather large amount of meat on it. He selected a strawberry and popped it in his mouth before picking up the blue clothes left out for him and unfurling them. 

The top was billowy and sky blue, green blue reeds growing along the bottom up form the hem in a slightly geometric style. Some kind of headscarf in a matching color was set amidst the clothe and a pair of sand colored riding pants of a sturdy fabric had been included. Underneath it all some red brown leather boots sat, gleaming with newness. The clothes were high quality but highly functional and very telling.  
“Are we leaving today?” he asked softly, his throat suddenly tight, the words chocked. Aaliah stepped up to his side and picked up the head scarf, running her fingers over the silken fabric.

“Lukman left with the first rays of dawn and the small contingent he left behind started packing up in the courtyard just moments ago. Your… your spouse was headed that direction when I saw them last.” She added softly, her expression compassionate. Lydian swallowed, jerking his head up as his grip on the shirt grew white knuckled and tear pricked at his eyes.

“I thought there might be something of a honey-moon here, how stupid of me,” he hiccupped trying to fight back the tears that threatened to run freely down his cheeks. 

“Oh Lydian,” she whispered and reached out to touch his arm. For a moment he shook, trying to maintain control but the overwhelming emotions of the past few days, the previous one especially, took him over. He pressed his head into her shoulder and sobbed as her arms brought him into a comforting embrace. She hushed him gently, stroking his hair as he cried, venting the fear and frustration and awful homesickness that threatened to swallow him.

“I thought I’d have more time, I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to go to some, some stupid fucking desert,” he sobbed, curling his hands into her sleeve. She rested her cheek on his head as her body heaved a sigh.

“I know little lord, I know. I’m so sorry,” she whispered to him.

“I-I,” he trailed off feeling unsure and pathetic, like a child again, “I wish you were coming with me.”

“I wish I was too,” her confession had him relaxing further and he sniffled quietly. He was so fucking scared, he had no idea what he’d find in Quain, no idea of what his future might look like. He’d been able to console himself with this mental image he’d built up. The one based on the information he’d gained about the Hellhound. But now that he’d met Husani, interacted with them he suddenly felt unsure. He didn’t know what was truth and what was fiction any longer, he didn’t know what he’d find in Quain or what to expect from his spouse and that scared the shit out of him. He thought he would have at least some time to get to know them, to get an idea of what to expect in the desert while they had a “honey-moon” here in Thrones Perch. Then he’d have the safety of some familiarity, the net of people nearby who would be willing to help him if Husani became… like his father.

Now he would be stuck in a desert with only people loyal to Husani nearby.

At least Lukman seemed ready to protect him if his spouse got aggressive. That counted for something, he thought bitterly.

He pulled away from Aaliah and wiped his cheeks clean. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes hard until he saw stars behind his lids. He inhaled a few times, composing himself and reining in his emotions until he felt more in control again.

“Aaliah, would you mind helping me get ready for the trip?” he asked calmly, straightening his posture until he looked like the lord he was. The women nodded, her eyes soft as she turned and headed towards the bathroom.

“I will be in here when you’re dressed,” she said, closing the door behind her. Lydian didn’t answer, instead he leaned on the table for a moment, inhaling slowly. Then he shed his robe and grabbed the pants. The time for tears was long past he had shit to do.

\--------

 

Husani stepped out into the sun as Azim went to go collect their new husband. The summer sun perhaps may have been hot to most, but it lacked any kind of intensity to Husani. In fact the sun combined with the breeze off the nearby sea made them feel cool. The salty humid air was nice, even if Husani craved the dry smell of sand at long last. Their shoulders relaxing they surveyed the courtyard. Lukman had clearly left a small contingent to be their guard but most of the people moving around below were of Husani’s Bloodhunters. All of them except…

“Husani!” a dark Anubite whose fur had a blue gleam to it, abandoned her horse and bounded up the stairs. Unlike most Anubite’s who cut their hair or kept it tightly braided this one had hers loose and curly sprouting from between her ears. Her golden markings around her eyes dripped from her tear ducts and curled like a vine around a single golden dot on her cheeks. She was slim elegant and deadly in her grace, a predator with a thin veneer of civility stretched over it. The smile she gave was warm but Husani noticed the way the human guards around them both flinched at the sharp white teeth that were on display. 

“Ebonee, I thought you were reinforcing the northern border of Quain?’ they said shocked as she wrapped her arms around them. The other Anubite chuckled into their shoulder, and Husani returned her hug fiercely. 

“I was on my way back when I ran into your messenger who was getting your treasures for your new little flower.” She pulled away and looked around, “So where is he anyway?”

“He’s asleep,” Husani said quietly, “And you didn’t have to come all the way here.”

“Of course I did, I’m only sorry I didn’t make it in time for your wedding.” Ebonee looked contrite, her face saddened. “We’re pack, I’m supposed to be there for you.”

“Pack?” they both turned at the new voice and saw the slim half-elf boy standing in the entry way. A step behind him stood Azim, looking smooth faced and unreadable. Ebonee’s face lit up in an almost devilish grin as she spotted him.

“Well well well,” she practically purred and intentional or not the predatory aspect of her turned up several notches. She stepped forward, moving to circle him. Husani felt their face smooth as soon as Lydian spoke and suddenly they felt their spine prickle as their ruff went up, as if they needed to protect Lydian. He shrank down a little, his arm twitching as if he was stopping himself from crossing them defensively. “He’s a cute one Husani you lucked out.”

“He’s standing right here,” Lydian growled, glaring coldly at her, lifting his chin challengingly. Ebonee blinked in surprise, leaning away from him. Then she smirked again, her aura less intense.

“Oooo he’s got bite too.” She responded then she stopped her pacing and stood in front of him shoulder to shoulder with Husani. She offered her hand, her smile gentling even more, “My name is Ebonee, Ebonee the first of her name of House Abair. Welcome to the pack.”

Lydian looked a little suspicious, but finally he reached out and grasped her hand shaking it. “Whats the pack? Lapis said the same thing last night when she gave me this.” And he produced a small golden scarab with his name carved on its back in Sphinx. Both Ebonee and Husani stared at it in surprise before Ebonee’s face twisted up, her ears flattening. 

“That bitch, “ she growled and Lydian flinched a little, his hand closing over the scarab and drawing it back to his side. Ebonee heaved a sigh and threw her hands in the air, “I came all the way here and she still beat me to giving your new mate a welcome gift.”

Husani relaxed and chuckled despite themself, “guess you’ll have to settle for third place.”

“Lukman too?” she yelped and Husani smiled rolling over their arm to show the tattoo Lukman had given them. Ebonee groaned out loud, digging her fingers into her hair. Lydian’s eyes darted between the two of them, the confusion beginning to spark frustration behind his icy blue eyes. Husani decided to intervene before the cold anger that had twisted him yesterday made a reappearance. 

“We are trying to get going so we can catch up to the contingent,” Husani said softly, “Perhaps we can get to your gift later?”

“No no no now is perfect,” Ebonee gestured to someone in the courtyard then made a grand sweeping motion as if leading Husani and Lydian to her gift. Husani stepped aside as Lydian moved out into the sun and breeze, his eyes still suspicious but some of the tension relaxing from his face. Ebonee smiled, looking pleased with herself as she danced down the stairs to meet another Anubite. She took from him the reins of the horse he was leading and patted its shoulder as she looked up at them.

The animal danced away from Ebonee’s touch, its large nostrils flaring as it snorted. It was a delicate looking creature, an arabian as fine featured as the half-elf beside them. Its long snow white tail was raised straight up as it pranced in place, stamping the ground with small dark hooves. Its mane was equally white but its body was mostly steel grey with cleanly defined dapples. As it turned its head Husani realized that while its right eye was dark, its left shone a clear sky blue. Ebonee yanked the reins lightly and the fiery animal came to a stop, snorting loudly as it raised its head. Its muscled flanks heaved and its powerful shoulders quivered with barely restrained energy. It was surely a magnificent animal.

“Her name is Jumanah, silver pearl” she said, running a hand down the animals neck, “Her bloodlines are warhorses going back centuries, usually ridden by nobles. Anubites may not ride horses very often, but we can still appreciate the history of their breeding and their importance to the desert. She is a strong animal, fast as the wind, sturdy and resilient. I hope she will serve you well.”

Lydian moved from Husani’s side, descending the stairs until he reached the horse. His hand reached out and he opened it flat, allowing the mare to sniff his palm with her flared nostrils. She huffed for a few moments before pressing her dark grey muzzle into his palm and lipping at his fingers in her search for treats. 

“Shes beautiful, thank you.” He said quietly. reaching up to pet her face and Ebonee gave a triumphant grin. 

“A timely gift all things considered, thank you Ebonee,” Husani said. Ebonee placed the reins in Lydians hand and bowed.

“I live to serve,” she joked causing Husani to subtly roll their eyes. Lydian moved down the animals side, stroking her neck and focusing on his new mare. Husani watched him and couldn’t help but feel saddened as he avoided further eye contact, not that Ebonee noticed. She only seemed pleased that her gift was well received and well suited to its recipient. Husani watched Lydian for a moment longer hoping to catch his eye but he studiously focused on the beading sewn into the saddle, not looking up as he inspected the tack’s craftmanship like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Husani noticed in that moment a slight redness to his eyes and they tensed, narrowing in on it. Had… had he been crying?

“Your Grace?” they jumped and glanced at the guard, a tiefling man with red skin and dark blue hair, who shuffled uncomfortably.

“Yes?” 

“I-I asked if you were ready to move out,” he said softly and Husani tensed glancing around. More than a few of their guard was already sitting astride their mounts and the rest paced anxiously waiting to leave. 

“Everything of my husbands is packed?” they asked smartly and noticed Lydian finally looking up at them.

“Already sent out with Lukman your Grace,” the tiefling responded and Husani sighed.

“Alright then, lets get going while the sun is high,” they barked and instantly their men began swinging themselves into their saddles, their horses prancing with excitement. Azim appeared like a ghost at Lydians side and helped heft him into Jumanah’s saddle before he swung aboard his own plain bay mare. The clatter of iron shod hooves and the snorting breathes of anxious horses filled the air as the small party circled up. Only Husani, Ebonee and two other Anubites did not take mounts, instead stretching their limbs and shifting their weight from one foot to the other, testing their legs and expending some pent energy. 

“You aren’t going to ride?” Lydian asked looking down at them for once from his place in his saddle. 

“I’m a quick runner, I could probably beat your fancy new horse,” Husani said challengingly, a smile dancing on their lips, the first real one since they’d arrived in Thrones Perch. Lydian shifted up, clenching his reins tighter as his mare half reared and settled back down striking the ground with one foreleg so hard that sparks glittered from the impact. 

Lydian tensed as he wrangled the mare back into his control. His eyes darted to Husani but he didn’t rise to the bait and they felt some disappointment. Sighing they let out a loud bark and the group began to swirl around swiftly. Husani made a quick run reaching the head of the group still on two feet. They glanced behind them and noticed the same maid they’d seen earlier standing in the doorway. Tears glittered in her eyes as she raised a hand in farewell and Husani’s eyes immediately darted to the only person she could be waving to. Lydian was watching the entryway as well, a muted look of pain on his features. He lifted his hand from his reins, waving goodbye to her. Husani inhaled then turned away, dropping to their four and began to run, sprinting faster than even the horses. Out the castle gates, down the cobblestone streets of Thrones Perch and finally onto the dirt road. They stretched into a full gallop, Ebonee keeping pace at their side and their men riding behind them, fanning into formation that kept Lydian and Azim at its center. 

Within an hour their group reached the tail end of the Quain army, the group was moving at a quick pace, a gentle trot for most of the horses. The men turned as Husani galloped by and few gave welcoming whoops, answered by a few of the riders in Husani’s group. They traveled up the armies side, past men and women moving at march who called out greetings. But the closer to the armies head they were the less attention Husani paid to those calls. Instead they focused on the beating of their heart, of the heaving of their lungs and on reaching the person they trusted most, relied on the most. 

Lukman was like a gleaming star trotting at the head of his army, clad in gold and white, his white coat gleaming. The dust of travel could not seem to touch him, and he looked entirely unruffled. A few soldiers called out to Husani and he turned, noticing them, his red eyes and gold pupils widening then glowing with happiness. 

Husani pushed off onto their two legs and covered the last few strides that way. Only a deep sense of propriety and the multitude of eyes watching kept them from tackling Lukman into a hug. Instead they skidded to a halt just before him as their guard began to melt back into the Quain army, bringing their horses to a halt. Husani grinned toothily at him and he smiled back, then he reached out and clasped their forearm tightly. They grabbed his in return and squeezed.

“Glad to have you back General,” he murmured in soft sphinx. Propriety be dammed Husani pulled him into them so they could headbutt his chin affectionately.

“Glad to be back my liege,” they said the last part just a bit mockingly and Lukman laughed. They parted, stepping away from each other but still closer than anyone else stood. “We’re going home.”

“Yes,” the word seemed to fill Lukman with a new glow. His chest swelled as he inhaled slowly and exhaled again, happiness and satisfaction writ all over his features. It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and now he was finally standing tall and proud again. “Yes, we are all going home.”

Husani’s smiled dimmed a bit but they didn’t try to correct him. Not everyone was making it home, they’d lost many good men and women to this war, but now it was over and they wouldn’t have to lose anymore. Speaking of which, Husani looked at the peace treaty given physical form, turning to check to make sure the short but hard gallop hadn’t shaken their husband too much.

Lydian’s gaze burned like the coldest ice imaginable, an ugly expression on his face. His eyes darted between Husani and Lukman and with a sinking heart Husani knew exactly what he was thinking. He’d drawn the same assumptions everyone else had about them, the same fucking conclusion. They would see it in the anger and frustration and cold acceptance in his eyes.

Lydian believed what most of Quain believed now, that Husani and Lukman weren’t just close friends, they were closer than that. That Lukman and Husani were meant to be King and Queen together, ruling side by side. That they were mates, an alpha pair.

Husani flinched away from his frigid gaze and stared at the ground. So much for finding common ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I will figure out how to do italics and bolding, but its not this day.


End file.
